


'Lo, Impossibility!

by Blacknovelist, GoLBPodfics (GodOfLaundryBaskets), olive2pod (olive2read), Vodka112Podfics (Vodka112)



Category: One Piece, The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Collaboration, Community: pod_together, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Gen, POV Outsider, Podfic, Podfic Available, Podfic Cover Art, Podfic Length: 1-1.5 Hours, Statement Fic (The Magnus Archives), Usual warnings apply for Nami's history with Arlong, started as a sort of "5+1" and then sort of...... spiralled out. ha ha.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-05
Updated: 2020-09-05
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:53:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25533154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blacknovelist/pseuds/Blacknovelist, https://archiveofourown.org/users/GodOfLaundryBaskets/pseuds/GoLBPodfics, https://archiveofourown.org/users/olive2read/pseuds/olive2pod, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vodka112/pseuds/Vodka112Podfics
Summary: A lot of mysterious things happen out in the great wide world, often without rhyme, reason or explanation. Maybe that's just a byproduct of the extradimensional horrors that exist beyond our world. Or maybe that's just what happens when you run around calling yourself a pirate in this day and age.(five snapshots of the Strawhats, in the world and context of The Magnus Archives)
Relationships: Monkey D. Luffy & Mugiwara Kaizoku | Strawhat Pirates, Rorona Zoro & Tim Stoker (The Magnus Archives)
Comments: 18
Kudos: 27
Collections: Pod_Together 2020





	1. meeting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Timothy Stoker has a friendly encounter of the surprisingly unspooky kind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Contains:  
> \- mentions of animal death  
> \- police corruption and implied/suggested brutality  
> \- drinking

## Chapter 1 + M4b + Zip

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  * [M4B podbook story](https://archive.org/download/lo-impossiblity/%27Lo%2C%20Impossiblity.m4b)
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He's right fit, the stranger sitting beside him, with shoulders as broad as the shitty twin mattress Tim remembers from his college dorm years and sleeves that don't quite hide thick muscle beneath. Nothing about him really makes sense, with the three swords strapped to his hip, his narrowed gaze, the countless scars and bright green hair. But together it works on him, and it works _well_.

He knows it too, Tim's sure. There's a sharpness in the man's eyes, a level of self-awareness that means he recognizes what others might see in him and owns it like he was born for it. It's respectable, is what it is.

Tim's not sure what spurs him on, to speak up that night. Later he'll laugh it off as the alcohol in his system, pushing him to chat up the buff young man sitting so close in that dim middle of nowhere bar he'd struck up during a layover, as he ran from the hell that called itself an Institute. But here, tonight, maybe there's something in the back of his mind — the part of him irreversibly touched and influenced by the Eye — that recognizes someone also bound to a power beyond. A part of him that understands the shape of marks, both visible and invisible, given by the dread powers that have ruined so many lives. And it's not like there's anyone but the bartender around to tattle if the conversation got weird. Wasn't it their job to keep their mouths shut?

So Tim knocks back his drink, coughing at the burn even as the bartender rolls over to deliver a refill, and murmurs with as little bite as he can muster, "don't suppose you're here taking a break from the shitty no-quit job you never really asked for, too?"

The stranger glances over and gives him a once-over before flickering to his worm scars. When he meets Tim's stare, after, there's something almost like understanding but perhaps more akin to acknowledgment waiting there.

(Tim won't remember to wonder why he assumed the man would understand him, let alone speak English all the same. It's another thought that will be swept away beneath the excuses of a night out.)

"Not exactly," the stranger says. He sets his own now-empty cup down to be replaced. "It isn't really the kind of job you take a break from, if you know what I mean. Wouldn't want to, even if I could. But I like to sit down for a drink where I can."

"Fair 'nough. Cheers to a break, I guess." Tim lifts the glass, and the stranger indulgently clinks his against it. "Name's Tim."

He nods, slowly. "Zoro."

"What, like the masked swordsman? Is that why you carry props like those around?" With his free hand, Tim gestures wildly towards the colorful scabbards. "Can't imagine there's too many jobs or reasons to have them out there."

Zoro barks out a laugh. "Is that what they look like? Props? No, they're as real as you can imagine — but only a swordsman who lets himself go to the whims of a few drinks is one that would be caught without his blades. Gotta be ready for anything, with a crew and captain like mine. I'd usually keep them in a bag, but this region isn't so picky on the regulations and I've got a feeling trouble might find us sooner rather than later."

Tim hums. "When you say crew, do you mean like... what, like a sailing crew?"

"In a word, yes, though it's not like sailing is all we do. Captain likes a good adventure just as much as a good fight, all the better for both at once, but there's things he can't do himself, which is where we come in. He loves pirates and stuff, so we call ourselves a crew."

"Huh." Tim blinks. "That does make sense, in a weird sort of way. How'd you end up with a job like that?"

"You sure it's a story you want to hear?" The shadow of a smirk plays on Zoro's face, amused indulgence in his eyes. "It's something else, and you can't take it back."

Rather than drop the 'yes' lingering on his tongue, he considers the question properly. Because Tim is buzzed, not stupid, and he recognizes there's something behind this odd, green-haired man. Even without the obvious eccentricities, there's a particular air that Tim's only become more attuned to noticing, since... well, everything. And he _was_ here to be on the run from mysterious, specifically odd things.

But someone else's oddities weren't exactly his own, right?

After a moment's deliberation, Tim sighs and shakes his head. He downs the remainder of his drink, waves for a refill, and calls for one more round for both him and the swordsman before he turns to face him. "Sure, why not. Lay it on me."

"Well." A grin grows on Zoro's face. "It all started when some kid found me tied to a tree at a police station and started blackmailing me."

Then he busts out laughing at the look on Tim's face. Tim, to his credit, holds out for a few seconds of indignity before he caves to the giggles.

"Alright, alright, so it was a little before that. Before I joined my crew, I worked as a sort of roaming consultant for whoever had the money, though usually just the local police forces. Usually I brought criminals and other dangerous folks in when they didn't have the strength to do it themselves. Wouldn't catch me dead actually being an officer, though, that's for sure. Oh, get that look off your face, man — I told you these blades are for more than show. They better be, if I'm gonna be one of the best swordsmen in the world. I've got formal schooling under my belt, but I prefer to use something of my own personal style."

"Can I get a demonstration?" Tim asks eagerly.

"Hell no," is the immediate answer. "I'm not putting up with the lecture our witch of a navigator will give me if she has to shell out to pay for something I broke."

"Aw."

"I traveled a lot looking for work. Eventually I came into some tiny place called Shells, feeling out, trying to figure out where to head next. Few days in, some teenager starts running around with his dog off the leash. It was maybe this tall—" Zoro holds a hand an inch below the bar counter— "and sounded like a damn jet engine, it snarled so hard. There were a couple of guys in uniform standing around, but they’re doing shit-all, and its owner sure as hell wasn’t doing anything but laughing and boasting about what an ‘amazing’ pet he had, how his father got and trained it for him, stuff like that. As if you could call that thing _trained_.

“And I’m not a monster, if I see things are going to shit and I can get involved, might as well. So when that mutt jumped at a little girl barely any taller than itself, I drew my sword — just the one, I wasn’t about to go all out on someone’s jumped up pet — and got in the way. The kid’s mom managed to get her to safety pretty quick after that, which was great, but the stupid dog just wouldn’t stop, so after about five minutes of parrying its teeth away from my face I kill it in self-defense and figure that’s that. But then the owner started yelling at me about how I’m going to pay and I’ll regret this, like he wasn’t the one about to let people get mauled by pet negligence. Except it turns out that the guy’s dad was like, some super important chief cop and a local hotshot or whatever, so I actually do end up arrested and stuck in a cell at the police station.”

“You’ve gotta be _kidding_.” Tim runs a hand through his hair, eyes wide when Zoro nods. “Wow. But I mean, they couldn’t actually keep you there, could they? You didn’t even do anything that bad.”

“They couldn’t keep me locked up, at least.” he shrugs. “Nothing to keep me on. But they could, say, charge me a big-ass fine and take all my stuff when I tell them I haven’t got the funds to pay up. Honestly, I don’t think I would’ve cared as much if it weren’t for this.” Carefully, he tugs at the white-hilted katana at his side, its rounded hand-guard glinting in the orange lights. “It belonged to the family of a friend, and got passed on to me when she died. Practically means more to me than life, and not just because of my honor as a swordsman, so I wasn’t about to let this slide. The head-guy’s idiot son noticed how pissed I was over it, so he made me a bet — the station had some kind of never-used courtyard out back, and he told me if I could survive one whole month tied up out there, he’d give me my things back. It seemed easier than breaking in and stealing them back myself, so I accepted.”

Silence, broken only by the building’s gentle hum and the occasional whir of vehicles outside, fills the space. Tim stares, mouth open and silent. Zoro, for his part, just takes another sip.

“So when you said some kid found you tied to a tree at the police station…”

Zoro nods. “Yeah, that part was true. Figured it wouldn’t be so hard to just tough it out and it’s not like I wasn’t used to hard times. That girl who I saved from the guy’s dog kept sneaking in though, no matter how much I told her to knock it off. I mean, who knew what those bastards would’ve done if they saw her? But she brought snacks and water, so I can’t really complain.”

Tim inclines his head. Fair enough.

“Anyway, a week in, I’m just sitting there and staring out into space ‘cause it’s not like I can do anything else while I’m tied to a goddamn tree, and… it seemed crazy at the time, but between one blink and the next, suddenly a couple of kids — some glasses boy with pink hair, and another teen with a strawhat — appeared out by the fence and started staring at me. I swear, one second there’s nobody, the next, bam, there they are along with the kid who’d been giving me food. And the one with the strawhat hops the fence and walks over, and you know what he says to me? He says, “are you stupid, getting yourself tied up out here? What are you doing?” Like I want to hear that from some brat wearing flip-flops and a pile of hay on his head like he’s come out of some generic low-budget farm life photoshoot. What would he know? We argued over it for a while before he popped back out and rejoined his friend, and I stick around, obviously.

“But he came back the next day, by himself that time. And strawhat says to me, “hey, I’ve got this thing I want to do but I need a crew to have fun with and help me out, wanna join me?” I laughed in his face, obviously, because I barely know him and I’ve already stepped up to a challenge here, and I can’t just step out and decide not to hold up my end of it on a whim. But he ignores me and goes, “okay, how about this, I’m going to go get your swords out of the station, and you can only have them back if you join my crew.””

“What, like some kind of hostage situation?” Tim asks. “Or— wait. If it’s an object and not a person, is it taking them hostage or using them as blackmail?”

“Hey, don’t ask me. I did tell you this whole thing started with blackmail.”

“…true.”

“Anyway, strawhat ran off after that to get my swords ‘cause, for whatever reason, he’d already decided to make me come with him, I guess. His pink-haired friend showed up soon after that to untie me, and also to finally give me some damn answers. Turns out Luffy — strawhat — was pissed at the head cop’s bastard son because he overheard some plans to shoot me in a few days and pass it off as starvation — he actually went and punched the guy, I wish I could’ve seen it — and he figured that since I’d gotten caught doing a decent turn for other folks, I’d probably a good choice of traveling companion.”

“They _what?!_ ” Tim yelps, brow furrowing as his brain frantically tries to catch up. “Wait, hold on. They were going to do what?”

“They were going to kill me.” Zoro looks far too amused about the memory of his own attempted murder and Tim’s secondhand stress. “So in the end, it’s a good thing they came to get me out. I’ve got no clue what actually happened in the station, to be honest, but I do know Luffy sure gave them back as much hell as they’d ever given. Went in, ran around, found my stuff, came out and together we knocked out the big boss police guy and his son before skipping town altogether before anyone could get their wits about them.” He leans back and closes his eyes briefly, drawing up the memories. “Who knows how Shells is doing now, though last I heard the bastard head cop isn’t the head anymore, so hopefully it’s better now. But I’ve been traveling with him ever since.”

“Wow,” is an understatement, but it’s all Tim can muster the will to say.

It’s the sort of wild tale that could just as easily be fake or exaggerated, certainly. In fact, it’s probably more reasonable to assume so. Yet, something in the back of his mind is convinced — whether by Zoro’s sober air despite matching Tim drink for drink, or by the obvious muscle the man boasts to back up his claims of fighting, or maybe even just the improbability of the whole thing because who in the world would think up this sort of nonsense — of its truth. Just another fact in a weird list of facts.

But regardless of the story’s place as fact or fiction, Tim has to ask… “I don’t mean this with any offense, but genuine question: are you insane?”

That gets an ill-timed laugh as Zoro splutters and chokes on his drink. He’s still grinning when he resurfaces, though, which Tim will count as a win.

“Probably,” he admits. “All of us are — some way more than others.” Here he mutters something under his breath that Tim can’t quite catch. Before he can ask, Zoro perks up ever so slightly. He glances to the door, then back to Tim. “It’s getting late. I should get back before someone comes looking.”

Dutifully, Tim steals a look at the clock and blinks. Oh, shit. When in the world did midnight pass him by?

It takes him a minute to dig out his wallet and tug his card out for the poor bartender, while the other man digs into his pocket and drops a variety of bills and coins onto the counter. Between one blink and the next Tim finds himself stood out in the balmy dark, staring out at the empty street. Zoro turns his head, searching, one hand laid casually over his three swords.

“You’ve got somewhere to go?”

“Yeah.” He digs a little napkin-scribbled street map from his pocket, a bit of foresight sober-Tim had had that he’s grateful for now. “It’s not far. What about you?”

“Oh, don’t worry.” Zoro pulls his gaze away from an empty alley on the other side of the road. The smile he offers is only half for Tim, something anticipatory in the flash of teeth. “I’m waiting for someone. Make sure you get back quick — this isn’t the sort of night for wandering.”


	2. come morning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Usopp contemplates his friends a little bit.

## *

Your browser doesn't support streaming with the HTML5 audio tag, but you can still [download this podfic](https://archive.org/download/lo-impossiblity/Lo%20Impossiblity%20-%20Chapter%202.mp3).

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[[link to chapter 2 mp3]](https://archive.org/download/lo-impossiblity/Lo%20Impossiblity%20-%20Chapter%202.mp3)

## *

When morning came, the northern slope that led up to the forest surrounding Syrup would be alight with fighting and blood. It was the price of maintaining the reputation of his lies to the town, and as Nami, Luffy and Zoro help put the finishing touches on the barricades blocking the rest of the cliff paths, Usopp sighed.

Somehow it didn’t even feel as nerve-wracking as that first time Usopp had trespassed onto Kaya’s property. He remembered the thud-thud-thud of his heart when he stood at the base of the opulent gate and walls for the first time, the hand over his slingshot a comfort as much as it was a practicality. The windows hung dark with the weight of grief, and between those walls lay a girl who deserved better than to push through the pain and illness alone. 

He remembered what that was like too, before the three kids of his gang came along — and his eight thousand followers before them. That’s not a life he’d wish on anyone. 

Kaya had her servants, though, and the people who lived in Syrup actually liked her, so even if this was it she would be okay. Not that the great warrior Usopp intended to die here, of course. There was so much that still needed to be done.

“Think this is enough?” Nami asked.

“It should be,” Usopp said. “With how many spikes and traps we set on the other slopes, they should run headfirst into the traps we’ve set up on _this_ one. It’ll slow them down and make it easier to keep them from breaking through into town!”

“And by the time they realize we’re not what they want to go through, it’ll be too late,” Zoro added. He hadn’t smiled or said much, but the way he tapped against his katana spoke volumes of his eagerness for the fight ahead. 

Luffy laughed. “They won’t know what hit ‘em!”

“My followers will keep an eye on the other roads though, just in case.” Usopp looked around, studying the swirls of countless little bodies scurrying through the dirt underfoot. “If anyone comes up there, we’ll know to head over and knock them back down.”

Nami rolled her eyes. “Right, your followers. Your ever-loyal eight thousand invisible groupies who can’t join us in the fight because they’re too small. I couldn’t ask for anything better.” 

“They exist! It’s not my fault you can’t see them.”

She made a noise that was less agreement and more ‘ _I don’t care enough to keep talking_ ’, which, while not a victory, was good enough for him. Dutifully, the ants and beetles that accompanied them from the forest filed off and scattered in little squads of their own. Bugs weren’t the fastest of alert systems, sure, but it would be better than not paying attention at all. Too much was at stake for that. Only a few stuck around with Usopp, hidden among the rocks. 

Just an hour until sunrise, now. 

He reached for his bag. All his special slingshot-attatchments and homemade pellets were accounted for. The tomatoes, eggs and other berries hadn’t gotten wrecked between the rocks and the caltrops, thank goodness — stiff pockets really did wonders for ammo compartmentalizing, who knew — and even with the number of supplies he’d donated to the traps, he felt confident he had more than enough to last him the oncoming siege. And if not, well, at least the lakeside didn’t lack in pebbles. 

“Thank you,” he said. The other three turned. “I know I said it already a lot earlier, but I have to say it again. You… you really don’t have to help me, but you are. I don’t know if I’d be able to do anything by myself.”

“Dummy,” said Zoro. “You already are doing something yourself — you’re the one who came up with the plans and decided to step up to the plate. We wouldn’t be here if you weren’t.”

“Still!” Fiddling with the strap of his sling felt so much easier than trying to look anyone in the eye, but he tried. “What brought you guys here, anyway? I didn’t even think Syrup was on the map, honestly.”

“Chance and boredom, mostly.” Luffy grinned, bright and wide like a second moon. “I’m trying to find a crew to join me on my adventures all over the world, and we just kind of passed by.”

“We _needed_ to find a place to stay and hopefully buy food at,” Nami corrected. “I know this area well and Syrup was closest. This idiot didn’t even have a direction or destination in mind, so it wasn’t even a detour.” 

“Hah, that’s a pretty good coincidence,” Usopp said. “To think, not only did you guys come just in time to help with this situation, but that one of you met my dad, even if it was years ago…”

Abruptly, Luffy gasped and shot to his feet, his smile growing. “HEY, I just had a great idea! Usopp, hey Usopp!”

“Y-yeah?”

“You should come with us!” He laughed, that distinct and odd _‘shishishi’_ that’s already cemented itself as so very _Luffy_ despite Usopp only knowing him for a few days at best. “Once this mess is over, join my crew! We’ll head out and get ourselves a cool car or boat or both and have tons of awesome adventures, you’ll love it!”

“I-I… really? You want _me?_ ” Usopp sputtered. Zoro and Nami met his gaze evenly and offered no help or insight to the strange straw-hatted teen that called himself their captain. “What do you even do?”

“I just told you. Go out on awesome adventures, duh. Like all the amazing ones you’re always going on about!”

“Those— those are just stories!” His hands waved out in front of him, like he could dispel the ideas before they grew any more out of proportion. “Fake! Lies! I’ve never done anything close to them before!” 

“Wouldn’t it be great if you could, though? Do things like that, with friends by your side?” Shrewd black eyes, almost out of place between the brim of that old hat and that bright smile, bore into him. “I’m not gonna make you come along if you don’t want to, Usopp, but if it matters, I want you to! You’ve got all these cool ideas, and those star-things, and all your stories even if you think they’re completely made-up. I just think it’d be fun if you came with!” 

Usopp swallowed. He thought of his house, big and empty as it had been since his mother’s death years ago. The garden, first Banchina’s pride and now his own, with its wide-petaled blooms and towering trellises. Those veggie boys and Kaya, who waited with the rest of the people of Syrup for him to return, whether to apologize or carry on in his loud, wolf-crying ways. His father left everything behind without thought or care, once, didn’t he? Was that who Usopp wanted to be?

But Luffy told him — Yasopp was out there, living a wonderful, dangerous life that would have seen his beloved wife to old age had illness not overtaken her. It wouldn’t make that much of a difference if he continued to live there, with the money coming in. Heracles came over frequently to talk plant-shop and half the garden was already basically his: a couple more greens to look after would barely be a blip on the radar. Kaya would have the rest of the Usopp Gang, if he himself left town. The arrangements and potential futures were the same, in the end. All that changed was whether or not Usopp would be around to come back and visit.

Even so… “Can I think about it?” he asked.

“Of course.” Luffy nodded. “Just don’t leave us waiting too long.”

They lapsed into silence, after that. Zoro meditated, Nami plotted, Luffy dozed and Usopp worried. With every degree of light that crept over the horizon, the anxiety and fear that coiled in his chest spiked higher and higher. What if that butler’s gang was too fast for them to stop? What if they were too strong? What if the barricades and traps did nothing but annoy them, dooming the four to an even worse death for standing in the way? What if the traps didn’t work at _all_? 

A tickle on his shoulder — a few no-see-um’s and flighted beetles alighting there, their buzz filling his ears. In this calm before the storm he heard their whispers, a familiar and oft-spoken curiosity. His followers who loved him and cared for him and worried as he did, they who listened to his stories and joined him when the silence of his childhood grew too much, all they wanted was to help. They could take away the fear, drown it out in the song, make all of his fights their own, too. All he needed to do was give them a place to stay.

It’s more tempting than Usopp would ever want to admit. He had never been brave, had never been bold, had never been anywhere close to fearless: not exactly “brave adventurer” material. But here he was, offered the strength he lacked to protect the things he holds dear. Who wouldn’t find it appealing, offered on the cusp of great danger? 

The sun crept up over the far water horizon. If he listened close, the morning’s ambiance resolved into the far hum of ships in the distance. Carefully, he pulled his goggles over his eyes. 

Come tomorrow, Usopp will count and be counted among Luffy and his friends. The insects will slip along in clothing folds and in their shadows, loyal to the boy whose ears they whisper into. Just as promised, he’ll have adventures that almost veer closer to truth than he’s truly comfortable with, and it’ll be just as fun as it is terrifying. 

For now, he drew his slingshot as the gang of snarling fighters approached over the crystal lake waters. And just as much to himself as to the bugs awaiting his answer on his shoulder, he murmured; “This much I can do on my own. How can I call myself a warrior otherwise?”

All around, his crew grinned.


	3. brawl

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things get dicey at the Baratie, but just for a minute.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Contains:  
> \- A fight

## *

Your browser doesn't support streaming with the HTML5 audio tag, but you can still [download this podfic](https://archive.org/download/lo-impossiblity/Lo%20Impossiblity%20-%20Chapter%203.mp3).

 **To Download:** Right click the link and choose save link as.  


[[link to chapter 4 mp3]](https://archive.org/download/lo-impossiblity/Lo%20Impossiblity%20-%20Chapter%203.mp3)

## [*](https://archive.org/download/lo-impossiblity/Lo%20Impossiblity%20-%20Chapter%203.mp3)

[

Work in the food service industry often put one in a good position to witness a lot of strange, mysterious things. It’s an effect only amplified when the boss and his kid are odd themselves, the co-workers are all cut of a certain cloth, and when one’s workplace is actually a mobile restaurant run out of a tricked-out double-decker bus. 

Anyone applying to work at the Baratie already knows of its eccentricities coming in though, of course. Most regard it as one of those par-for-the-course things that get put up with because the pay is good and the boss lets you live  _ in _ the bus so you don’t have to worry about tracking where the restaurant itself is actually going. Sure, it was a pain to go out in the middle of nowhere all the time, and if the boss paid them a dollar for every time a fight broke out he’d probably go bankrupt, but it has its own charms. For the most part, everyone who works and lives on the Baratie loves it here and Juls, one of the chefs, is no exception. 

Today’s situation is intent on trying that devotion to the greatest limits though, that’s for sure. Sanji doesn’t seem worried at all, as he stands on the metaphorical frontline between the haggard delinquents and the restaurant they’re trying to steal. The temporary errand boy chuckles beside him, strawhat swaying in the lakeside breeze. His friends have long since ditched the situation for one reason or another, though the blood from  _ that _ particular fight has yet to be washed away in the tide.

Juls will never underestimate the power of a good sword in the right hands again, that’s for sure. He’s still trying to wrap his mind around the fact that the green-haired man hadn’t just died instantly back there. 

This is no time to be distracted, though. The enemy is still here, looking like a raggle-taggle mess of con-attendees who have just come out of an ill-advised eight-hour bender only to follow their de-facto leader and launch headfirst into a second one. Comparatively few of them look fighting fit compared to their numbers, but all of them leap into the melee eagerly. Whether out of a sense of loyalty or in the hopes they’ll be knocked out and not have to fight anymore remains to be seen. Still, Juls can’t help his faint shiver of worry for the opposition, even as he drops an elbow into someone’s solar plexus. Thinking of them as convention-goers isn’t just a funny statement — there are people decked out in  _ plate armor _ over there. How has the sun not fried them? 

Ah, no, never mind. Speak of the devil, one of the fighters — the one in armor bedazzled with large white pearls —falters, red-faced, and there’s no telling if it’s the weather or Sanji’s strike that takes him down. The group’s leader, something-Krieg, looks absolutely livid.

“You’re only prolonging your deaths!” he shouts. His wild backhand takes out more of his own people than it does any of the Baratie’s. “Just hand over the keys already!”

“Hell no,” Sanji and errand boy say, flat as can be. Zeff, leaned against the side of the bus, snorts. 

“Don’t strain yourself too much, eggplant.”

“I don’t need to hear that from you, geezer.” 

With that, the chef spins into a handstand, effectively ducking under a sloppy punch, and delivers a devastating roundhouse to the nearest mook. He follows it up with the mother of all high kicks, leg still lifted in a vertical split as his opponent falls to the ground, only to bring his dress-shoe heel down on the next idiot who charges without breaking a sweat. No matter how often he sees Sanji fight, it still puts him in awe. How long has he been training?

But even his flexibility is nothing compared to the teen in the strawhat, whose limber twisting around Krieg’s blows gives Juls a headache. Strawhat leans at improbable angles and swings his limbs like he has no bones, arms and legs and even his torso bending once, twice, three times over before snapping back like nothing happened. Surely it’s a trick of the eyes, he thinks, how the kid bounces back from every impact with the ground, the way it seems his fist travels much further to strike his target than physically should be possible. Things become much harder to dismiss when they’re happening over and over and over. 

Krieg’s people see it too. Their wide-eyed disbelief slowly morphs into uncertainty, then into terror in the wake of this boy who makes no sense. Some of their own employees are on a similar boat, their gazes darting to and from the duo duking it out in a mix of awe and fear that has nothing to do with Krieg’s threats. The only reason Juls isn’t the same is because it’s damn hard to be scared of the kid who likes to dance with chopsticks up his nose for fun. 

“I’ll kick your ass!” Strawhat’s shout rises above the din. On instinct Juls jerks, head whipping in his direction — he only has time to catch sight of an arm, stretched out over everyone’s heads, before his inattention gets him cold-clocked. The last thing he hears is the resounding  _ gong _ of steel, like the clatter of an aluminum tray on the ground amplified a hundredfold.

A few days later, Sanji leaves with the boy who most definitely is not human in search of his friends. Juls waves them off alongside everyone else before stepping off the bus himself, intent on claiming those paid off days Zeff gave the whole restaurant staff. He’s lucky a concussion is all he came out of the brawl with, but he’s still planning on doing next to nothing for the next week or so. Then a thought comes to him, unbidden on his walk home. Weren’t there institutions and fancy places around that paid for news on weird shit like that kid in the straw hat?

He wonders if they’d be interested in this story.

](https://archive.org/download/lo-impossiblity/Lo%20Impossiblity%20-%20Chapter%203.mp3)


	4. statement

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cat Burglar Nami has a chat with the Archivist

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Contains:  
> \- Mentions of violence  
> \- Mentions of blood and gore  
> \- Mentions of extortion/blackmail  
> \- Death (Bell-mère, multiple unnamed police officers and people)  
> \- Implied/referenced dismemberment
> 
> Any warnings that could be applied to the Arlong arc of the One Piece manga apply here as subject of discussion. Please take care.

## *

Your browser doesn't support streaming with the HTML5 audio tag, but you can still [download this podfic](https://archive.org/download/lo-impossiblity/Lo%20Impossiblity%20-%20Chapter%204.mp3).

 **To Download:** Right click the link and choose save link as.  
[[link to chapter 4 mp3]](https://archive.org/download/lo-impossiblity/Lo%20Impossiblity%20-%20Chapter%204.mp3)

* GodOfLaundryBaskets as the CAT BURGLAR [Nami]  
* olive2read as THE ARCHIVIST [Jonathan Sims]  
* vodka112 as MONKEY D. LUFFY  
* Blacknovelist as SNIPER KING [Usopp]  
  
Edited by: GodOfLaundryBaskets 

## *

[CLICK. THE WHIR OF A LIVE RECORDER]

**THE ARCHIVIST  
**You're one of the Strawhats.

**CAT BURGLAR  
**And you're that freaky all-knowing Archivist guy Robin came to talk to that one time.

**THE ARCHIVIST  
**I- well, I take exception to "all knowing". But yes, I am the Head Archivist of the Institute. Jonathan Sims, but feel free to call me Jon.

**CAT BURGLAR**  
Alright Jon. Now, I'm sure you're wondering why I'm here, so let me cut through pleasantries and get to the point - I'm here because you have something I want.

**THE ARCHIVIST  
** ( _bewildered_ ) I do?

**CAT BURGLAR  
**Specifically, this institute does. You see, there's a certain artifact I've got my eye on that's sitting in this building, and given what a slimy ass that man upstairs is, you seem like my best bet to actually getting my hands on it. 

So here's the long and short of it. You either need to fork it over, or give me and my crew permission to look for it and take it out of that ridiculous storage of yours. Make sense?

**THE ARCHIVIST  
**I mean, but I can hardly just go and say "yes, by all means, walk in and make a mess". You and yours don't quite strike me as the type as needing permission for that sort of thing, even.

**CAT BURGLAR  
**You're not exactly wrong. And of course, if you're absolutely insistent on saying no I'm sure I could figure something out. I do prefer a non-confrontational solution where I can, though. It would certainly be much nicer all around if we could come to some kind of... accord about this.

[FABRIC SHUFFLES, AS THOUGH SOMEONE IS LEANING FORWARD, OVERLAPPING WITH A SECOND SHUFFLE OF SOMEONE LEANING OR MOVING AWAY.]

**THE ARCHIVIST  
** [ _overlapping_ ] Excuse me?

**CAT BURGLAR  
**You strike me as a smart man, Jon. If I were you, I wouldn't dream of just handing over something so important-sounding without cost. I'm prepared to negotiate a deal with you. An exchange, if you will. We Strawhats do tend to get around - I'm sure there's something I can offer that'll catch your eye.

[SILENCE. THE ARCHIVIST TAKES A DEEP, AUDIBLE BREATH]

**THE ARCHIVIST  
**...very well, you have my interest. What... well, first, it would be nice to know your name, or perhaps just what I can call you?

**CAT BURGLAR  
** [ _Cooly, trying not to sound suspicious_ ] Is that a requirement?

**THE ARCHIVIST  
**I- I suppose not, but... may I ask why?

**CAT BURGLAR  
**I was under the impression that names are power.

**THE ARCHIVIST  
**Ah. Well, I believe there's been some misunderstandings here - I can assume you, only the alleged fair folk have that particular ability. If names are truly power in that way, I've yet to see or hear about it. 

Besides, it goes both ways. Didn't I tell you my name already?

[PAUSE]

**CAT BURGLAR  
**I guess you did. Well then. I'm Nami.

**THE ARCHIVIST  
**A pleasure, Miss Nami. Now, you were saying about some kind of deal...?

**CAT BURGLAR  
**Right. 

[PAPER RUSTLES]

There's a special compass in your storage, one of a kind, that I want. I'm prepared to make several different offers in order to persuade you to let us walk away with it. Now, if it were me in your place I'd do it for a high-enough price tag, so I have cash on hand but would rather not part with it. Still, it's on the table. I hear, though, that you like info and stories here?

**THE ARCHIVIST  
**Statements, specifically, about people's encounters with the supernatural. 

**CAT BURGLAR  
**Mm-hmm, right. My better offer to you is a statement. Have you ever heard the name Arlong, Jon?

**THE ARCHIVIST**  
Heard of, yes. A notorious gang murderer, known for brutal methodologies, disappeared several years ago. Are you saying...?

**CAT BURGLAR  
**[SCOFF]  
Is that what the rest of the world thought of him? "Disappeared" is a funny way of putting what he did for almost a whole decade. 

**THE ARCHIVIST  
**May I ask...?

**CAT BURGLAR  
**Ah-ah-ah, Archivist. The knowledge of what he did falls under your purview, so you only get it with the acceptance of my offer. How about it? A statement on that _monster_ , and in exchange you give me my compass. Seems almost unfair when I put it like that, doesn't it?

**THE ARCHIVIST  
**What is this compass, that you want it so badly?

**CAT BURGLAR  
**Rumor has it the compass points to places apart the poles, and that all the islands it points at are some manner of impossible. Knowing what you do about us, I'm sure it's not hard to understand why we might be interested.

**THE ARCHIVIST  
**No, I suppose not. ( _hesitantly_ ) And... if I say no to any deals at all?

**CAT BURGLAR  
**( _cheerfully_ ) I don't think you want to know about the potential Plan B's, let alone see them in action. If it gets that far, at least.

**THE ARCHIVIST**  
Right.

[PAUSE]

And you just intend to... what, follow it wherever it points?

**CAT BURGLAR  
**Yep. It's for my use only - I doubt anyone else would be quite as capable with it.

**THE ARCHIVIST**  
Indeed. Well.

[PAPERS SHUFFLE]

Given your crew's surprising propensity for avoiding bystanders and keeping to yourselves, I admittedly can't see the harm in potentially allowing this. I'll agree to your terms, Miss Nami. One statement in exchange for my giving you access to Artifact Storage, for the purpose of collecting your compass.

**CAT BURGLAR  
**Excellent! So, how shall we do this?

**THE ARCHIVIST  
**One moment.

[CLEARS THROAT]

Statement of Miss Nami, Navigator of the Strawhat Pirates, regarding...

**CAT BURGLAR  
**...The murder of my mother at the hands of the man known as Arlong, in his work to establish himself an empire.

**THE ARCHIVIST  
**Statement recorded direct from subject, February 22nd, 2018. Statement begins.

**CAT BURGLAR  
**First of all, I want to state for the record that I don’t intend to give you more than the bare minimum here today. Before you open your mouth and start complaining — I know how your eye-things work, I sincerely doubt you can make me go any further. Your whole thing is information and learning, though, so I honestly doubt there’s any level of vague I can be that you wouldn’t eventually be able to crack. This situation is resolved, has been for years, and I don’t care about what you want me to say or do, I won’t go deeper than I have to. The memories are enough as it is.

Arlong is, was, and possibly never had been human, and the same for his lackeys. This is something I feel confident in, knowing what I do, both from my years of dealing with him and from what I've been told about his personal history. There's probably people who would laugh and say something along the lines of "of course he wasn't human, just look at the things he did, they're terrible" but I'm sure I don't need to explain to you just how little that encompasses everything that... monster was. 

I did some research on him, long after he was gone. Not sure why, to be honest... maybe just some morbid curiosity? It was about what I expected — a lot of murder, a lot of things about extortion, plenty of destruction of public and private property, so on. Still don't think it compares to what he did _off_ the record, but it’s not like it’s a competition.

You do need a little context to Arlong’s tyranny in my life though, I suppose. Let me start at the beginning.

I was just a baby when my birth parents died. In the end, I never did learn who they were — but then, I never cared for that, either, so I guess it doesn’t matter. The incident that got them was a shootout, before you ask. Some turf war gone wrong, or maybe a bastard on the run. Didn’t ever learn the specifics, and I didn’t dig deeper. My foster mother was a bold woman who I only knew as Bell-mère, an ex-cop and war vet, though she had some pretty unsavory things to say about both of them by the time she dropped them. Apparently she was on-duty when the shootout happened, and was first on scene. Saw me and my adopted sister Nojiko there, bloody and unharmed, over the bodies of our parents and all these faceless bastards and decided, in her own words, “to do some good for once”. Sought us out in the foster system, took us in and, as soon as the legal system let her, whisked us out of whatever garbage pit we came from to her hometown, some place in the middle of nowhere called Cocoyashi.

We made our life at Cocoyashi growing fruit. Nojiko and I would often help her with planting and harvesting, when we weren’t at school or playing around, but it was Bell-mère who stood out in those fields, day in and day out. She… she really was something else. The strongest woman I’ve ever known, by far, the sort to keep unloaded shotguns under the table for self-defense purposes and start a fight if it’s to defend her family or honor, you know? School might’ve taught important subjects, but it’s the lessons Bell-mère gave us that’ve probably kept me alive all these years. 

Our lives weren't very lucrative. In fact, they were downright miserly. We rarely had enough money to keep the roof over our heads; everything else was scrounged, bought second hand, called in with favors, couponed and budgeted like mad, all sorts of things. I learned a couple of pickpocket and thievery tricks from fiction books at the library, though either the shopkeep would absorb the cost without word or Bell-mère would pay it while we weren't looking. My favourite things to swipe were the fancy meteorology books at the store, if I’m being honest. It seems like a strange thing for a child to be interested in, but I’ve always held a fascination for the weather and the environment and no one ever bothered to tell me _not_ to. 

Regardless, we did what we had to, to survive, and sometimes we had a good time doing it. But I… I hated it. Being poor, that is.

It always rubbed me wrong, knowing just how bad-off we were, whenever we went into town. Looking at our clothes, full of patches and holes, at the disaster our house was, at how little we owned that wasn’t necessity… I knew we could have more but didn’t, and it was because we didn’t earn enough to have it. The open fact of my adoption, not being related to my family, never helped either. It was so hard to feel like anything more than a burden on what little money Bell-mère had. If I were gone, if she'd never chosen to take me in, would life be easier, kinder in any way? These questions haunted me.

It's... it's funny. I still remember so much about that time clearly, but it's also gone so... faded. The shapes of it are indistinct in my hands even though the edges stay sharp. 

I was eight when Arlong and his people came to Cocoyashi. Their faces were still well known from rumor and internet news boards, so when someone spotted them heading into town, it didn’t take long for word to spread. Nojiko and I were with Genzo, an old family friend of ours around Bell-mère’s age, when we heard. I’d just gotten into a fight with my mother, you see, about our lack of money and not being blood family, just that morning, and his place had been the first to come to mind as a safe spot to hide. Not that we could stay, once we got the news. Genzo’s first thought was our safety — he immediately told us to get out of there, to hide in the woods and not come out until the whole mess blew over. All but shoved us out into the alley behind his house and told us, in a tone I’d never heard from him before, to _go_.

It’s hard to describe, but do you know that particular sort of air that tends to fall over people when they know something is about to happen? That metaphorical calm before a storm of unparalleled might and chaos, just long enough to let you prepare but never enough to let you escape altogether unscathed? The instinctive fear you get that comes with that irrefutable knowledge? That was all I felt, as we ran. In any other time I’d have fought him on it, insisted that we stay, but at that time I knew it would be the wrong choice. Still, we stayed close enough to listen in. No one had time to pay mind to a couple of shadows in the alleys with everything else.

Arlong’s group opened fire and otherwise lunged on the already-assembled officers and other well-meaning people who aimed to keep him out of our homes without hesitation or mercy. If they were lucky, they died instantly. Most of them didn’t and instead were left to scream and bleed out on the concrete. Don’t worry, though: Nojiko and I didn’t see very much of it. Our distant vantage-point meant that we only really saw blood, if anything, though when you come back and see people going around with limbs missing after months in the hospital, well. It’s pretty easy to tell what happened.

The only blessing, and a mixed one it was, was that the violence didn’t last long. Small town means less official people to protect it, and it didn’t take long for everyone else to stand down. Though, what came next was just as bad in an entirely different way.

Those bastards began to demand _payment_ from the townsfolk. It was an exchange for their lives. If you need some perspective, let me lay it out like this: imagine if your rent, every month, was something between a quarter and half of your overall current income, plus half of that for each child in your home. Except this rent is a flat constant and doesn’t decrease or increase depending on how much money you earn. And the money doesn’t even go towards putting a roof over your head or groceries in your fridge. The terms were clear: anyone who couldn't pay would be killed then and there, just like those who hadn’t stood down fast enough. Money or death. Everyone was quick to make their decisions.

To this day, I still don’t know why Arlong made the demands he did. Maybe it was greed, some honored remnant of a time before bloodshed and superiority became the priorities of his life. Maybe it was his own twisted way of controlling himself so he wouldn't just kill everyone right away. Maybe it was another form of torture, of playing with us, watching us squirm and beg and struggle before we either succeeded or his people struck. Maybe it’s some horrid combination of all three. I think the answer is something we’re all better off not knowing. 

The point is, though Bell-mère would never let either me or my sister get a look at our finances, we knew enough to understand that there was no way she had enough money saved up to pay for all three of us. If Arlong and his gang were intending some kind of takeover of Cocoyashi, it wouldn’t take long for them to find our house, even if we did live outside of town. So when Nojiko and I heard them start to demand that money… we took the only course of action that made sense to us, at the time. We ran for home, in the hopes that we could make it back in time to warn Bell-mère and… escape, probably. It probably wouldn’t have worked, in hindsight, but, well. I suppose we’ll never know for sure. 

Nojiko and I took the long path to get back. We knew those woods than anyone else, so we were pretty confident that we’d be able to beat anyone coming from town. As we fled through that underbrush, hearts hammering and eyes nearly blind with our panic and fear, scenarios flooded my mind. One world, we make it in time and the three of us live in the wild; in another, we make it but don’t succeed in getting away; in a third, we don’t make it but by some miracle, we have the money to survive. 

There was no way for us to know that Arlong’s people had long since split up, that some of his men had already alerted him that there was one more house to Cocoyashi, fifteen minutes out on foot by a little farm. We didn’t know that Bell-mère already saw the danger and tried to pull on her years in the force to protect her home. We couldn’t have known his men were still there, waiting for their leader to arrive and bestow judgment on the spunky woman who dared try to pull her gun on them.

Her screams haunt me. I imagine they haunt Nojiko too. She held me back as much as I held her, our hands clutched in each other’s shirts as we broke through the treeline and heard that distinct crack of bone, the wet smack of skin against skin, the thick stench of blood, her voice high and pained above it all. They were stronger than all of us, you know? So much stronger. It would've been easy, I think, for them to just hold her back, but... no. It was a conscious choice they made, to make her _suffer_.

My heart thumped in my heart, so loud I couldn’t help but fear we would be found there, pressed together behind the house among the tall bins of gardening supplies. But as Arlong's men searched our house and scanned the fields, they didn’t find us. Too small to notice, probably. They reconvened, none the wiser to our presence, and I turned my attention towards the yard just in time to see Arlong in the flesh for the very first time. 

Photos can’t do him justice, you know. They can’t show you just how much bigger his seven feet tall is compared to everyone else in your day to day life, or that gleam in his eyes and grin when a particularly nasty idea came to him. If I had to give him a word, it would be… sharp. Sharp, like every limb and bone in his body were made of glass shards and knife blades, ready to draw blood if you so much as looked at him wrong. Sharp like he’d already reached checkmate against all your planss and now just drew out the fight for his own amusement. Back before everything… it’s childish, but I always used to think his nose looked silly, when I saw him on the television. I laughed, every time. Now, well… honestly, it’s hard to even imagine what that young me thought and why. That’s trauma, I suppose.

For a little while, the conversation between Arlong’s people and Bell-mère grew too quiet for the two of us to hear, and neither of us wanted to get any closer. It had been one of Bell-mère’s first lessons — don’t stick yourself into a situation you can’t win. So we waited there, curled in each other’s arms, choked on the smell of blood and sounds of a fight, hoping beyond hope that it would turn out okay. I leaned into Nojiko and tried to pretend that it was our mom crouched above us, hiding us from sight.

Then Genzo’s voice rose above the din. He shouted at Arlong, at his men, at Bell-mère herself for choosing to fight when she didn’t have to. Just pay up, he’d said, and everything would be fine.

Arlong laughed but was quick to voice an affirmation of Genzo’s words, and gave her the same ultimatum as everyone else — money or death. But the thing thing… none of them knew about me or Nojiko. That poor lifestyle, that lack of fancy toys or books that I so despised before, worked in our favor, as from the point of view of an outsider investigating an unfamiliar building it looked as though only a single adult woman lived there. No trace of us kids existed in that building to those who didn’t already know. Even the table setting for three was explained away by Genzo claiming that Bell-mère had invited guests for dinner. In other words… if everyone acted as though we’d never been Bell-mère’s children, as though we’d never lived there, she could survive. It wasn’t hard to put together from the conversation that she had just enough for one grown-up.

If there was one thing that bit Arlong in the ass hardest about himself, it was his damn pride. Not once could he even fathom the thought of anyone being greater than him, whether in physical strength or fighting prowess, or even in brain power. I can still follow the train of thought perfectly. Bell-mère had money for one of her, or the two of us. Arlong didn’t know we existed, though, so if Nojiko and I could stay under the radar long enough and get away, all of us might be able to survive this. The townsfolk would lie to protect all three of us, and in his hubris, Arlong would never suspect them of lying in the first place. After all, he and his already fell for the one about dinner. We would just… need to leave, so that there was no chance of slipping up and being caught in the house. Probably forever, unless some miracle drove Arlong away again. 

I didn’t want to. I… knew the danger, but didn’t want to have to go. Cocoyashi was my home, and despite the argument I had with Bell-mère just that morning, I wanted to be able to stay with my family. Nojiko got it, though. While I was rendered immobile, unable to move on my own with the weight of wants and needs and the fears that came with both, she’d already stood as quietly as she could and started pulling me back the way we’d came, towards the trees. “It’ll be like in our books,” she whispered to me. “An adventure, just us, until we’re strong enough to stop Arlong or make friends who can help us.” Like that made the situation better in any way. Like it would really be that simple.

But then we heard her, Bell-mère, speaking over the masses. It’s the clearest part of my memory of the whole event. I keep those words of hers right here in my heart, where they’ll remain exactly as she’d spoken them. “Thank goodness. With this money I have saved, I can pay for my two daughters. They’re so young, you see, and it’s us adults’ jobs to make sure they have a place to come home to. Even if it costs my life, even if it’s just a word… I will do my duty as a mother to her beloved children. Please take care of them.”

Neither I or Nojiko noticed when our footsteps took us out from our little shelter and into view of everyone. Not until we turned that corner of the house and took in the actual shape of the carnage there. Bell-mère had actually succeeded in wounding a few of Arlong’s people, the injured sprawled on the ground and clutching their wounds. But it hadn’t been without cost — Bell-mère’s left arm was a mangled mess, white bone visible beneath her stained red fingertips. The cigarette in her mouth was all but ground flat as she held in her suffering. Still, when we rushed to her and she took us into her good arm, it was… good. It was the last time in the next ten years that I’d ever feel even close to safe, and it never could have lasted long enough

We were ushered away by Bell-mère herself after that. Arlong, after all, was determined to keep his word — that all those who paid would be spared, and those who couldn’t would die.

“You will be my first example,” he told her. “This is what your love and defiance gets you.”

My mother died with her head held tall, despite the pain she must have been in. Standing there in front of our home with a gun pointed to her forehead, as the townsfolk tried and failed to fight off these creatures that conquered us in mere hours, her very last words to us were ‘ _I love you_ ’. 

It’s her memory that pushed me forwards for the next ten years, after. Her lessons to be strong, to stand tall, to find joy by virtue of being alive. But at that time, blinded by grief and anger and so much terror towards this new, motherless world we’d entered into, all I knew was that I would do _anything_ if it meant my home could go free. I never knew I could dream of Arlong’s fall alongside that until later, when I met the man who would be my captain.

But that’s a whole other story.

[SILENCE FOR A FEW SECONDS, BEFORE SOMEONE TAKES A DEEP BREATH.]

**THE ARCHIVIST  
**...Statement ends.

**CAT BURGLAR  
**I'm sure you can imagine my relief to be free from him.

**THE ARCHIVIST  
**Indeed. For what it's worth, I'm sorry. What happened to you, how long it lasted, the things you've seen... it's terrible.

**CAT BURGLAR  
**Thank you. Now, our deal?

**THE ARCHIVIST  
**Yes... yes, it's my turn to fulfill. Right, come on-

[A LOUD THUMP, FOLLOWED BY A SERIES OF LOUD FOOTSTEPS AND MUFFLED, INDISTINCT SHOUTING OUTSIDE.]

**THE ARCHIVIST  
**What in the world?

[HE STANDS AND OPENS HIS OFFICE DOOR. ANOTHER THUD, UNMUFFLED BY THE DOOR THIS TIME.]

**THE ARCHIVIST  
**Who...??

**CAT BURGLAR  
**Oh, no.

  
**SNIPER KING  
**Sorry, Nami! We tried to stop him but-

**MONKEY D. LUFFY  
**( _overlappping_ ) Nami! There you are! We got your weird compass thing-y from their dumb artifactory place for you! 

[A RATTLING SOUND.]

**CAT BURGLAR  
**Don't shake it, you idiot!

**MONKEY D. LUFFY  
**Oops, sorry. 

[ABRUPTLY, AS THOUGH JUST NOTICING]

Hey, mystery eye guy! Nami, do we need to fight him?

**THE ARCHIVIST  
**( _quickly and panicked_ ) I would really prefer not?

**CAT BURGLAR  
**( _dangerously calm_ ) No need, Luffy. Just like how there wasn't a need for you to jump out like you _weren't supposed to_ in order to get the Pose. He already agreed to hand it over.

**MONKEY D. LUFFY  
**He did? 

[PAUSE]

You did?

**THE ARCHIVIST  
**I mean, yes, your navigator and I came to an accord-

**MONKEY D. LUFFY  
**Oh. Great! Thanks, mister fear librarian guy, you're not so bad!

**THE ARCHIVIST  
**( _slowly_ ) Um. Thank you? 

Er, you didn't touch or mess anything up while you were up in Storage, did you?

**SNIPER KING  
**Nah, don't worry. There were enough warning messages everywhere that we did our best to keep Luffy from running too wild in there.

[RELIEVED SIGH]

**CAT BURGLAR  
**Right, well. That's our business here concluded then. Which door is our way out?

**SNIPER KING  
**Over there.

**THE ARCHIVIST  
**Oh, uh, actually the exit is over-

[HE TRAILS OFF AS THE DOOR OPENS AND THE SOUND OF WAVES COMES THROUGH]

Okay. Right, well. Never mind, then.

**CAT BURGLAR  
**That's our cue. Thank you for your cooperation, Jon.

**THE ARCHIVIST  
**You're welcome. I'd say anytime, but I don't particularly want to open that kind of invitation with you folk. No offense.

**CAT BURGLAR  
**None taken. 

**MONKEY D. LUFFY  
**Come on, Usopp, Nami, let's go!

**SNIPER KING  
**Hey, wait up!


	5. adventure

## *

Your browser doesn't support streaming with the HTML5 audio tag, but you can still [download this podfic](https://archive.org/download/lo-impossiblity/Lo%20Impossiblity%20-%20Chapter%203.mp3).

 **To Download:** Right click the link and choose save link as.  


[[link to chapter 5 mp3]](https://archive.org/download/lo-impossiblity/Lo%20Impossiblity%20-%20Chapter%205.mp3)

## *

Luffy sets off from the little town of Foosha at the ripe young age of seventeen, just as his brother before him, as Makino, Dadan and the gang wave him goodbye. He’s got a bag slung over one shoulder, his straw hat on his head, and a bright grin on his face. 

Once upon a time, a red-haired man came to the village, with the stars and seas in his eyes and a smile never far behind. His name was Shanks, and in the single year he spent in town he taught Luffy about so much. He filled the boy's head with thoughts of endless roads and rolling seas, the big and little adventures waiting out in the world, how full it is of unspeakable, absurd things that need no reasons in order to simply _be_. The reality they share is so much more than what people think should and shouldn’t happen. Luffy’s truth is not Shanks’ truth, which is not Makino’s or Ace’s or even Gramps’ truths. This hat is a promise to be free, to live whatever truths he wants, just like he's always dreamed.

And if Luffy wants to be made of rubber so he can punch things that are far away and then run away from home in order to be a really cool pirate-adventure, then by jove he will. No one can keep this from him, not anymore. Not even the stupid snake-thing that lives out in the fields that probably wants to eat him!

The not-serpent in question looms out from the mess of woods, threatening to block his path like one of his young-self's nightmares come to absolute life. But Luffy has grown strong these past ten years, and only grins at the sight of those needle-sharp teeth and that long, undulating form. While it rears up ten, fifteen, twenty feet above, Luffy draws back one fist, contemplates the distance, and relishes in the sensation of stretching skin, muscle and bone as he lashes out. His strike lands home in the monster's face, all the stronger for its impossibility, and his arm returns to the correct length with a satisfying _snap_ as it crumples into the underbrush. The ground underfoot shakes with the impact.

He laughs.

Now, where had he been before the monster came out? Ah, right. There’s things he needs to do on his journey to make sure it's a success, and Luffy conjures up his mental dream to-do list to figure out what he ought to be looking for. A crew, for one. Lots and lots of friends! Shanks had plenty, and all the adventurers and pirates in the stories his brothers used to tell him had them, and therefore Luffy needs some too. Also a ship, with a fun figurehead to match. Or a car, so he can go up and around mountains. Oh, or maybe something that was both! Of course, he doesn’t know how to drive either of those things, but that won’t stop him. One of his friends will be able to, and therefore it will be fine.

So a crew, a vessel… supplies too, probably — even if Dadan gave him the biggest backpack ever, it would only last for so long. A new thought pops into his head, both his own and not, urging him onwards to the nearest town. With how little he blinks at the laws of the physical on even a bad day, it would be easy to find some people to scare or convince into giving him a hand, like more supplies or even to come along...

 _Nah_.

Really, the idea isn't even worth considering. There’s a difference between people just being scared and going around _making_ them scared. Luffy remembers what it’s like to be looked down on by someone who plants those dread seeds in others for no reasons beyond the fact that they could. He’s got no time or want to go out there and do that, no matter what the weird thing in the back of his head says.

If random people want to go around fearing Luffy, that’s their business — he’s never cared what others think of him, and he isn’t about to start now. As far as he’s concerned, though, the only ones who should be scared are the ones who want to get in the way of him and his dream, and the only ones who should come along with him for his dream are the ones who actually want to.

Simple as that.

Ah, but those thoughts are no fun. Like a wet dog, Luffy shakes off the existential mood. Today is a day for new adventure and the start of freedom, not whatever that was! He blinks up past the rim of his hat to the bright sun and grassy fields. Makino mentioned something to him about how to get to the nearby city of Goa, but he can’t remember it for the life of him. Was he supposed to turn left before the cat-shaped log, or after? Or was it supposed to be a right?

Oh well. He doesn’t really want to go there anyway. Only cool places deserve his time, and Goa is as boring as it gets. Well, unless a boring place has food, but the people in Goa haven’t let him close to their restaurants and businesses in years anyway. Best just pick a direction and get walking, instead. Maybe he'll even find the coast!

With that settled, Luffy fixes his bag and carries on.


End file.
